J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Tribeca ’16: Fear (short)

When
a totalitarian state uses violence, intimidation, and humiliation to rule over
its people, it is hardly surprising when clinical depression develops as a
by-product. Yet, we rarely address the lingering emotional issues for those who
live through traumatic oppression, like the kind wrought by Mao and Stalin. For
victims, this often layers on additional levels of stigma. Dr. Zenglo Chen
would know only too well. He survived the Cultural Revolution, but the atrocities
and privations he endured continued to torment him over the subsequent decades.
Dawn Dreyer & Andrea Love chronicle his healing process in the animated
documentary short Fear (trailer here), which screened at this
year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

At the
age of four, Dr. Chen’s parents were persecuted and eventually condemned to
re-education camps, leaving the young boy in the care of his twelve-year-old
sister. Given the hardships his family endured, Chen was certainly entitled to periodic
bouts with the blues. Unfortunately, his survivor’s guilt and abandonment
issues would prove emotionally paralyzing, even after he moved to America.
Despite his training as an organizational psychologist, Dr. Chen had trouble “curing”
himself. It was not until he integrated spiritual elements into his life that
Dr. Chen finally started feeling at peace with himself.

It turns
out those Gideon Bibles in hotel rooms do some genuine good from time to time, at
least judging from Dr. Chen’s story. Indeed, there is a great deal we can learn
from the way Dr. Chen balances his personal faith with the science and medicine
of his vocation. It is an inspiring film in many ways, sensitively rendered by
Love, the animator, through hand-drawn and stop-motion techniques.

Dr. Chen
is a real role model, but his life-story is much more complicated than “mere”
triumph over adversity. In a brief seven minutes, Dreyer & Love give
viewers a sense of that rich complexity. Still, there is considerably more
uplift in Fear than the vast majority
of documentaries on the Cultural Revolution and mental illness. It is a deeply
moving film that features some cool animation as an extra added bonus. Very
highly recommended as a stand-alone film on its own merits, Fear will be incorporated into Dreyer
& Love’s feature-length project Bipolar
Girl Rules the World and Other Stories, following its screening as part of the
Whoopi’s Shorts program at the 2016
Tribeca Film Festival.

Hot Docs ’16: Fear Itself

Eighty-three
years after his first inaugural address, FDR’s words still hold resonance for
us: “all we have to fear is the lame clip package.” Obviously, he was trying to
rally the nation against dubious docu-essays during our darkest hour. Of
course, there are plenty of other things to be afraid of, like cannibals and
satanic possession. The things we fear and the ways that fear manifests says a
lot about a national culture. However, Charlie Lyne is too afraid of his own
subject—horror movies—to give them the analysis they deserve in Fear Itself (trailer here), which screens during this
year’s Hot Docs in Toronto.

Lyne’s
compilation essay is entirely cobbled together from clips of horror movies and
a sizable number of ringers, only occasionally referred to by the
meta-fictional narrator. Apparently, she has been binging horror films while
recuperating from an auto-accident that may have also claimed the life of her
mother. However, instead of catharsis or escapism, she feels desensitized and
depressed.

There
is something innately problematic about a film like Fear Itself or the glacial anti-zombie zombie-movie Here Alone (the inexplicable winner of
the Tribeca Award) that have deep-seated contempt for their genres. By holding
themselves above genre conventions, they basically make a half-hearted job of
things. In the case of FI, Lyne’s
narrator never delves into the collective anxieties reflected on-screen.

During
the early Atomic age, fear of nuclear war produced a host of radiation-mutated
monsters. Neurotic uncertainty regarding changing gender and sexuality norms is
reflected in a host of slasher movies, going back to Hitchcock’s Psycho in 1960. On the other side of the
spectrum, our collective guilt and the kernel of Catholicism buried deep within
us all is the reason demonic horror in The
Exorcist tradition scares the bejesus out of us. Unfortunately, Lyne never
goes to any of these places.

At
least Lyne has a decent eye for visuals. Italian Giallos are quite prominent in
his mix, but that is not a bad thing. He is also refreshingly international in
focus, incorporating several Japanese and Mexican films. He draws on the
vintage Universal monster movies surprisingly heavily, but Hammer is bizarrely
absent. Yet, we can see how uneasy Lyne and company are with horror from the
many films outside of genre he shoehorns into a thematic discussion, such as Alive, Gravity, Logan’s Run, and both
the Alan Clarke and Gus Van Sant Elephants.

Frame for frame, you
can probably find slier social commentary in horror films than any other genre,
but aside from a few choice scenes culled from Dawn of the Dead, Lyne never gives masters like Roger Corman and
John Carpenter their due. That is frustrating for fans and offers no constructive
insights for horror movie outsiders. Not recommended, Fear Itself screens tomorrow (5/1), Tuesday (5/3), and Wednesday
(5/4), as part of Hot Docs ’16.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Sacrifice: What Happens on the Shetland Islands . . .

Never
call a Shetlander English, they are likely to take exception. However, some
would be even less thrilled to be called Scotts. They consider the Faroe
Islanders their closest cousins and aspire to a similarly quasi-independent
status. They definitely do things differently on the Islands. American surgeon
Tora Hamilton learns that the hard way in Peter A. Dowling’s Sacrifice (trailer here), which opens today in New York at the IFC Center.

After
her untimely miscarriage in New York, Hamilton agrees to relocate to the
Shetlands, her husband Duncan Guthrie’s ancestral home. On paper, there are
plenty of advantages. He will have plenty of petroleum-related work and the
local hospital will be delighted to have surgeon of her caliber. There is also a
large, unflaggingly immaculate orphanage that is chocked full of infants ready
to be adopted. That is indeed the plan for Hamilton and Guthrie, once they are
past the one-year cross-the-t’s-and-dot-the-i’s waiting period.

Just
when Hamilton starts to feel comfortable, a peat-bog preserved corpse is
unearthed from their property. The police assure her the anonymous body most
likely dates back centuries, but Hamilton notices physical traits similar to a
young wife and mother who supposedly died of cancer a year or so ago. Everybody
tries to pooh-pooh her concerns, but the body’s injuries sure look like a
ritualistic killing to her. Forced to conduct her own investigation, Hamilton
starts to suspect the murder was the work of a not-so ancient pagan cult
operating uncomfortably close to home.

Evidently,
some of the islands are covered with scattered rune fragments (rune ruins),
making the Shetlands a highly suggestive setting for supernatural skullduggery.
The problem is Dowling’s narrative is much more a conventional Brit mystery
than a horror film, which rather figures, considering it is based on a novel by
Mary Higgins Clark Award winner, Sharon Bolton. The trappings are strange and
sinister, but the surprises are few and far between.

Still,
it is rather worth the price of admission to see Downton Abbey’s David Robb (Dr. Richard “It’s Eclampsia You Idiot”
Clarkson) in such a radically different context. He chews the scenery with
great gusto as Hamilton’s shadowy father-in-law, Richard Gutherie. Likewise,
Rupert Graves is slippery enough to maintain Gutherie fils’ moral-ethical
ambiguity. Radha Mitchell is a bit vanilla for the lead, but her restraint
serves the film well in a number of key scenes. She also develops a fast
screen-rapport with Joanne Crawford’s Sgt. Dana Tulloch perhaps the only honest
copper on the archipelago and certainly the only pregnant one.

Sacrifice is highly watchable, but it never really dials
up the intensity you would expect from an IFC Midnight release. It feels more
like a highly promising BBC America pilot than a midnight movie. With that in
mind, it should definitely be on the radar of British mystery fans, who will
recognize Robb from Downton and
Graves as Cumberbatch’s Lestrade. Recommended on VOD for the And Then There Were Nonedemo, Sacrifice opens round midnight tonight
(4/29) at the IFC Center.

Hot Docs ’16: Raving Iran

According
to the Islamist Iranian government, Anoosh and Arash play “satanic” music. In
their case, this means techno-house, but it could refer to any form of music
that is not traditional Persian or classical piano. That necessarily makes the
duo known professionally as Blade & Beard outlaws in their own country.
Eventually, they will have to choose between their home and their passion in
Susanne Regina Meures’s Raving Iran (trailer here), which screens during this
year’s Hot Docs in Toronto.

The
double meaning of Meures’ title is inescapably spot-on accurate. As they try to
build their careers in Tehran’s ultra-underground rave scene, Anoosh and Arash
constantly ask has nothing changed under Rouhani, the purported “liberal.”
Sadly, the answer is always a resounding no. From the DJs perspective, if the
Islamist regulation of music and culture has changed at all, it has become more
intrusive and arbitrary.

In what
amounts to a Sisyphean mock epic, Anoosh and Arash visit a series of printers
and media stores, hoping to get their album covers printed and possibly secure distribution
for their newest CD. Time and again, the proprietors tell them they are under
government surveillance. Several believe their phones are tapped. One store
owner tells the duo he was recently arrested for selling a heavy metal CD that
had been duly approved by the state, only to have the sanction revoked
retroactively, with no public notice.

One of
the intrepid DJs is even briefly arrested, but fortunately he is not
blackballed from traveling to Switzerland for an electronic music festival.
There Blade & Beard can actually enjoy an alcoholic beverage in public,
while they listen to new music at its most unruly. They definitely make the
most of their days abroad, but a critical decision looms.

Throughout
Raving, there are a number of grey
dots obscuring the faces of those enjoying the Iranian techno scene and most of
the closing credits for the Iranian shoot are billed as “anonymous.” Obviously,
Meures went to considerable lengths to protect the innocent, as any rational
humanist would see them. Still, we have to wonder how Meures secured some of
the early footage of Anoosh and Arash beating their heads against a wall of
censorship. Some of it is truly mind-blowing, like their visit to the
government office that authorizes (or more likely denies) licenses for public
performances.

You cannot hold any illusions about the state of intellectual and
artistic freedom in Iran while watching Raving.
(Quick, let’s make this regime a nuclear power.) On the other hand, it fully
addresses the wrenching emotional decisions involved in asylum-seeking. It is
an extraordinarily brave and honest documentary that also features plenty of
real deal techno. Very highly recommended, Raving
Iran screens this Sunday (5/1), Tuesday (5/3), and next Saturday (5/7), as
part of Hot Docs ’16.

Tribeca ’16: Starring Austin Pendleton (short)

His
imdb page looks impressive, but it only covers a fracture of Austin Pendleton’s
work. While the movie industry largely sees him an eccentric character actor,
the theater world better understands his talents. Whether it is a grand
Broadway theater or an Off-Off Broadway cubby-hole, rarely a week goes by in
New York without a stage-production either starring or directed by Pendleton.
The instantly recognizable thespian finally gets an overdue cinematic ovation
in Gene Gallerano & David H. Holmes’ short documentary Starring Austin Pendleton (trailer here), which had a special Tribeca Talks screening
at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Once you
see Pendleton, you will totally recognize him. He had recurring roles on Oz and Homicide: Life on the Street, as well as supporting parts in the
Oscar-winning A Beautiful Mind and
the Oscar-nominated Amistad, but he
is probably best known as the stammering attorney in My Cousin Vinny. In fact, Pendleton has a lot to say about how he
came to terms with his close association with that film.

In most
of his interview segments and those of his admiring colleagues (including Ethan
Hawke, Nathalie Portman, Peter Saarsgard, and the late Philip Seymour Hoffman),
we get a sense of Pendleton’s generous spirit and professionalism. However, we
also see he can let loose some attitude when it is warranted. An appropriate
example is Janet Maslin’s dubious NYT
Magazine piece, in which she dubbed Jeff Bridges the “most under-rated
actor.” (At that point, Bridge had three Oscar nominations to his credit.) It
was a ludicrous piece, much like when Yahoo Movies features one-hundred-million-dollar
grossing films on listicals of overlooked sleepers. Viewers will second his
venting, just like Ethan Hawke.

One
thing that clearly comes through in the twenty minute short is the
adventurousness of Pendleton’s stage work. He is willing to give new works a
shot, simply because they are interesting. We’ve covered him as the star of the
fascinating Another Vermeerand the
director of the Pearl Theatre Company’s first Tennessee Williams revival, Vieux Carré, both of which took a bit of
guts, but the resulting productions were excellent.

Pendleton’s career could easily sustain a feature length American Masters treatment, but for now,
Starring is an admirable bite-sized
overview. It is also sadly fortuitous Gallerano and Holmes were able to record
Hoffman’s tribute to Pendleton, whom he credits for launching his stage career.
Anyone with any interest in the craft of acting should keep an eye out for Starring Austin Pendleton, following its
world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

L’Attesa (The Wait): Easter with Juliette Binoche

A
young man has died, leaving behind a saintly mother and a morally compromised
girlfriend. Does that give you any kind of archetypal inklings? How about the
fact it takes place in the days leading up to Easter? Giuseppe is dead, but who
knows? Giuseppe just might come again in Piero Messina’s L’Attesa (The Wait) (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

The
details are sketchy (better get used to that), but the upshot is clear. Anna is
devastated by her son’s premature death. She had resigned herself to her grief
until Jeanne comes knocking. Evidently, Giuseppe invited his French ex for
Easter before his destiny took a tragic turn. Clearly unaware of his death, she
eagerly hopes to patch up their relationship. Instead of breaking the bad news,
Anna lets her continue to expect Giuseppe’s imminent arrival. It sounds
terribly cruel, but it seems to allow Anna to feel some sort of connection to
her son through the stunningly unintuitive Jeanne.

Nobody
wants to call Jeanne an idiot, but she walks in on the funeral reception without
picking up on any mournful vibes. Still, it should be conceded Anna is quite
persuasive. Like any Sicilian mother (in her case, formerly French), she will
serve up plenty of food for Jeanne.

Juliette
Binoche is at the top of a short list of maybe two, who could play Anna with
the grace and dignified reserve she demands. We can see how deeply she is
hurting and how loathe she is to show it. On the other hand, Lou de Laâge is an open book,
broadcasting her yearnings and insecurities with the fervency of youth. Those
contrasts play well together in their many shared scenes.

Having
served as assistant director on The Great Beauty, Messina is often considered a protégé of Paolo Sorrentino. You can
see Messina has a similar affinity for bold visuals, particularly the grand,
sweeping tracking shot. However, the effect on viewers is mostly distancing in L’Attesa rather than giddily
intoxicating, as in Beauty.
Regardless, Francesco Di Giacomo’s cinematography is wonderfully lush and heavy
with the suggestion of otherworldliness.

Messina
also builds to an is-it-or-isn’t climax that ought to be intriguing for its
ambiguity but is really just frustratingly coy. Frankly, so many films have led
us down this opened-ended road before, most cineastes would find concrete
certainty much more interesting and novel.

Still, there is
Juliette Binoche, riveting as always. While she does not reach the lofty
heights of Blue, Flight of the Red Balloon, Certified Copy, or Clouds of Sils Mariathat is largely due to L’Attesa’s
weaker script, credited to Messina and a trio of co-screenwriters: Giacomo
Bendotti, Ilaria Macchia, and Andrea Paolo Massara. It is all a bit over-ripe,
but at least Messina and his cast are reaching for something. Recommended for
Binoche’s fans, L’Atessa or The Wait or whatever they’re calling it
on the marquee opens tomorrow (4/29) in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine.

Black Salt (short): Launching the Franchise

He
has Shaolin training and an Interpol badge, but the most dangerous thing about
Samuel Lincoln Tharpe, a.k.a. Black Salt, is probably his hardnosed attitude.
He will need every possible edge to save the world from an apocalyptic Yakuza
sect in Ben Ramsey’s Black Salt(trailer
here), a
short film intended to launch an ambitious multimedia franchise based on the
comic book characters created by Owen Ratliffe. Genre fans can get a dose of
martial arts and WMD when Black Salt airs
on Cinemax on Demand and MAX GO.

When
young Tharpe’s mother relocated to China, it ended in tragedy. However, a
rebellious Shaolin monk took the boy in, teaching him the secrets of Shaolin
Kung Fu. Not so surprisingly, many in the monastery were not happy with this
breach of tradition, so they were not sorry to see him leave before completing
his training.

Of
course, the very grown Tharpe is a badder customer than just about anyone else
in the West, which makes him quite valuable to Interpol and the allied agencies
they lend him out to. The stakes will be particularly high when Tharpe is sent
on a mission to recover a vaguely defined doomsday device from an evil Yakuza
death cult. However, things seem to go pretty smoothly thanks to intel acquired
Li Jing, his dissident source inside the Yakuza—at least until the sect’s super
villains turn up in an untimely fashion.

Even
though Black Salt is pilot-like
thirty-minute short film, it features two centerpiece-worthy fight scenes, in
which Tharpe first faces off against the icily sadistic Rain and then the
mysterious and stealthy Horse Ripper. Both feature plenty of highly cinematic fight
choreography, co-directed by Ron Yuan (who appears in a non-action role, at
least thus far, as Japanese agent Mamori Shiga).

So
far, so good. True, Black Salt the
short will totally leave fans hanging, but that is really to be expected, given
the concept-proving, audience-teasing nature of the project. As Tharpe, Kinyumba
Mutakabbir has a suitably steely presence and all kinds of action cred. Sheena
Chou’s Li Jing is an intriguingly vulnerable femme fatale, but we maybe shouldn’t
get too attached to her. The same caution goes for Panuvat Anthony
Nanakornpanom, who tears it up as Rain.

It looks like Ratliff
and Ramsey plan to combine Eastern spirituality with gritty street action, in
much the same way the original Power Man
and Iron Fist comics did, which would be terrific. They clearly understand
the genre and know how to deliver the goods to satisfy aficionados. Based on
the thirty minutes of Black Salt, we
would definitely welcome a full length feature or episodic series. Recommended
for martial arts and comic books fans, Black
Salt will be available on Cinema on Demand starting today (4/28) until May
26th and continues its current availability on MAX GO until June 30th—with
a limited edition DVD coming soon.

Tribeca ’16: By Sidney Lumet

Have
we lost Deathtrap to political
correctness? It was once celebrated for its frank depiction of sexual
orientation, but in an era of safe spaces, are its unsavory characters now a
too edgy for the professionally sensitive? You have to wonder, since it is
completely absent from a new career-surveying profile of its director, Sidney
Lumet (aside from the final screen crawl of his filmography). Nancy Buirski
covers all the Lumet core requirements (12
Angry Men, Network), but her choice of electives is frustrating in By Sidney Lumet (trailer here), which had a special Tribeca
Talks screening at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There
was good reason for Lumet’s reputation as an actor’s director. He understood
thesps because he once was one himself. As a child actor, Lumet started out in
Yiddish theater, before moving onto Broadway and radio (where the bread was
really terrific). In time, the grown-up Lumet segued into theater and
television directing, working prolifically on the Golden Age dramatic showcases.
He also happened to direct an Off-Broadway production of Mr. Roberts Henry Fonda rather liked, so the star was amenable when
someone suggested Lumet to helm the theatrical feature version of Reginald Rose’s
teleplay, 12 Angry Men.

From
there, Lumet and Buirski go film-by-film, mostly in rough chronological order.
Plenty of time is justly devoted to The
Pawnbroker, Network (still a grossly misunderstood film), Serpico (including a few bars of Bob
James’ kind arrangements), and Dog Day
Afternoon. On the other hand, Lumet’s red diaper baby films, Daniel and Running on Empty get disproportionate attention. Fail-Safe and The Verdict are also duly covered, but not as extensively as you
might expect. However, his Oscar-winning outlier, Murder on the Orient Express is only seen in passing.

When you
have credits like Lumet’s, an interesting minor film like the le Carré adaptation The Deadly Affair is understandably
overlooked (it also might have been better known if it had not changed George
Smiley’s name, for contractual reasons). However, Buirski’s determination to
frame Lumet as the great voice of morality in American culture gets a little
heavy handed, especially for the generally modest Lumet.

The best
of Lumet’s films could provide grist for hundreds of film studies theses, but
when he was off his game, he could drop bombs like Gloria and Critical Care.
Hey, nobody is perfect. Of course, it might have been interesting (and even instructional)
to hear more about the misfires. As it stands, By Sidney Lumet is highly watchable, like an installment of American Masters, where it is indeed ultimately
destined. Recommended for fans of 1970s New York cinema, By Sidney Lumet will eventually air on most PBS stations, following
its special screening at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Pali Road: A Hawaiian Detour

It
is sort of like a Hawaiian Mulholland Drive. Dr. Lily Zhang’s life will
drastically change after an accident on this titular scenic route. Most distressingly,
she finds all traces of her lover have been mysteriously erased. However, she
will tenaciously cling to her memories in Jonathan Lim’s Pali Road (trailer
here), which
opens this Friday in New York.

The
Chinese-born Zhang cares about her patients and about what her parents think.
Both cause a lot of stress in her life, especially given how strongly the
latter object to her American significant other, grade school teacher Neil
Lang. Of course, they would happily approve of her arrogant colleague, Dr.
Mitch Kayne, whom Zhang was briefly involved with—much to her regret. However,
when a quarrel with Lang leads to a severe-looking car crash, Zhang wakes up to
find herself married to Kayne and the mother of a five-year-old son.

Much to
her alarm, none of Zhang’s friends seem to remember Lang. Kayne’s creepy
psychiatrist colleague diagnoses late-onset amnesia and prescribes some happy
pills. Nevertheless, Zhang remains suspicious, especially when she uncovers
traces of her life with Lang.

Given
the warmth and vulnerability she exhibited in films like Hear Meand Ripples of Desire,
USC alumnus Michelle Chen was a fitting choice to lead this American-Chinese
co-production. She definitely has an appropriately intelligent presence for a
driven doctor, even though the narrative often feels rather half-baked. Once
again, Chen instantly claims viewers’ sympathies and credibly turns up the
angst and pathos down the stretch. As Kayne, Sung Kang agilely turns on a dime,
from a slimy jerkheel to an apparently caring husband and father. Frankly, he
is a major reason why the film is able to keep the audience somewhat
off-balance and not completely sure where it is all headed.

The problem is reality-bending films of this nature almost always end in
one of two ways: either with a frustratingly Lynchian lack of resolution or an
overly pat gimmick. Such is the case again with Pali Road, but at least the Hawaiian backdrops are lovely to look
at. The work of Chen and Kang is also well worth watching, even when the bottom
falls out of the third act. Recommended for Chen’s fans, Pali Road opens this Friday (4/26) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

SFIFF ’16: NUTS

They
won’t tell you this at the Grand Ole Opry, but the commercial development of
Country music was greatly supported by goat . . . glands. “Dr.” J.R. Brinkley
was the man who recognized the untapped potential of both. Penny Lane (yes,
that is her given name) chronicles the up-and-down life of Brinkley, the
pioneering broadcaster and purported infertility specialist in the subtly
titled NUTS (trailer here), which screens during the
2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Brinkley’s
rise from mean circumstances was so unlikely, even Horatio Alger wouldn’t believe
it—perhaps with good reason. As the narrated passages of his authorized
biography explain, the young hayseed was laughed out of medical schools because
he was so scruffy. Yet, the diploma-ed-up Brinkley would eventually set up practice
in Milford, Kansas, where destiny was waiting for him. When a patient suffering
from “dysfunction” requested a little of vim and vigor from the Billy-goat they
could hear going about his business outside, Brinkley obliged, because why not?
When the man’s wife soon found herself in a family way, frustrated men from
around the country soon flocked to Milford for Brinkley’s gland transplant
surgery (it was really just a slice he was inserting, mind you).

Obviously,
the man who developed goat transplant surgery was no dummy, but Brinkley also recognized
the powerful possibilities of radio at a presciently early stage. He founded
the nation’s fourth radio station right there in Milford, making it a home for
all the “hillbilly” music proper stations would never play, as well as an
advertising venue for his assorted treatments and cures. Eventually, the FCC
shut him down, at much the same time the AMA revoked his license. Yet, a man
like Brinkley would not be deterred from such setbacks. He simply went down to
Mexico and founded XERA, the original “Border Blaster” that would become the
storied home of artists like the Carter Family and opened a new clinic a stone’s
throw away in Texas.

So did
the gland transplants actually work? Hell no, they didn’t, but Lane will
initially have viewers wondering. NUTS is
in fact a deliciously subversive film that sets up the Brinkley legend and then
knocks it down, using his own words (or those of his hand-selected biographer)
each time. Arguably, NUTS is also a
rather timely film, in an almost tragically bizarre way. Running as a populist candidate
that combined the worst of Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump, Brinkley ran a
nearly successful write-in campaign for Kanas governor based on demagogic class
warfare themes.

Using sly animation and ironically cornpone narration, Lane treats
Brinkley’s story with the gentle mockery it cries out for. It is rather fitting
that Brinkley incubated country music, because his aptitude for
self-reinvention is pure Americana. Yet, Lane also captures the Shakespearean dimensions
of his inevitable fall. It would be impossible to make Brinkley dull, but her
stylistic choices kick it up several notches further. Very highly recommended, NUTS screens this Friday (4/29) and
Saturday (4/30), as part of this year’s SFIFF.

Tribeca ’16: The Last Laugh

With
The Great Dictator, Charlie Chaplin
tried rather unsuccessfully to re-appropriate his toothbrush mustache. In the
process, he established an unofficial rule of comedy that has been pretty
scrupulously observed until recent years. You can mock Hitler (see John Cleese
in half the episodes of Monty Python’s
Flying Circus), but you cannot joke about what he did. Many popular comedians
and also Sarah Silverman discuss and debate the last taboo in their business
throughout Ferne Pearlstein’s The Last
Laugh, which
screened during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There is
no consensus of opinion among the survivors featured in Last Laugh. Some claim they never could have endured without the
subversive power of humor, whereas others say they never found anything funny
about the Holocaust—end of story. Despite Chaplin in Dictator and Bugs Bunny in Herr
Meets Hare (which Warner Brothers withdrew from general circulation after
the war ended), Hitler jokes were still a little iffy until Mel Brooks
scandalized polite society with The
Producers.

Frankly,
you have to marvel at Brooks’ fearlessness when he discusses his long “relationship”
with Hitler. Obviously, French Holocaust survivor and original Hogan’s Heroes cast-member Robert Clary
has a very personal perspective on the issue as well. There is also a healthy disagreement
regarding Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautiful,
with the Anti-Defamation League’s Abraham Foxman taking a “pro” position and
just about everybody else lining up against.

Yes, Mel
Brooks is still funny and Silverman still isn’t. As a result, there are some
mid-sized laughs sprinkled throughout Pearlstein’s doc, but her cafeteria style
approach makes it feel more like the pay cable special it should have been. However,
the double-secret bootleg footage of Jerry Lewis’s notoriously off-key Holocaust
comedy, The Day the Clown Cried
(pointedly contrasted with Benigni’s mawkish shenanigans) is a coup that should
attract curious gawkers.

Pearlstein is sensitive in the way the film presents tasteless humor, so
it is unlikely to offend any viewers. Last
Laugh also moves along rather snappily, but it never delivers the deep revelations
of its implied promises. Yet, the film will serve an important purpose as a
benchmark to measure the further evolution of comedic standards. Considering
the rise in anti-Semitism (driven by immigration trends and anti-“Zionist”
activism), would anyone be surprised if Holocaust jokes were to become common
place in five years? Pearlstein never asks that question, which is a lost
opportunity. Sometimes amusing and sometimes informative, The Last Laugh is a mostly competent attempt to take our cultural temperature
on a critically significant subject. It screens May 1st, 2nd,
and 7th during this year’s Hot Docs following its world premiere at
the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

The American Side: Niagara Noir

If
you think Niagara Falls is a romantic spot, you probably haven’t seen Niagara with Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotten.
Hopefully, you are also unfamiliar with local P.I. Charlie Paczynski, who
specializes in the sleaziest divorce cases possible. When the stripper-partner
he employs for honey trap scams is rather inconveniently murdered, the Polish
detective will blunder into a far-reaching conspiracy in Jenna Ricker’s The American Side (trailer here), which opens this Friday in
New York.

Paczynski
and “Kat” were basically running a blackmail operation, until one of her “dates”
up and killed her. He liked her way more than Sam Spade liked Miles Archer, so
he duly follows the clues to a suspicious character named Tom Soberin. When his
chief suspect takes a swan dive off the Falls, Paczynski realizes there is a
larger scheme at work. It turns out Soberin was once an employee of an
experimental energy firm, whose co-founders have had a falling out. It is
unclear which faction he ultimately chose, but he supposedly had an affair with
Emily Chase, the younger, far less stable but much more alluring sister of
Borden Chase, who largely won the corporate power struggle.

Sterling
Whitmore, Borden Chase’s ostensible partner, serves up cryptic clues to
Paczynski while he develops a high tech barrel sufficiently reinforced to
provide safe passage over the American side of the Falls. Evidently, people
have made the ill-advised trip on the more forgiving Canadian side, but not
from New York. In fact, Paczinski will have no shortage of dubious sources,
including a fishy FBI agent, a Serbian spook, and “the Eavesdropper.”

Side starts out as a nifty old
school noir that fully capitalizes on the faded glory of its Buffalo and
Niagara Falls locales. However, viewers better hold on to their hats when
wildly speculative Nikola Tesla schematics enter the picture. Holy death rays,
Mike Hammer. It is so crazy, it kind of works.

Co-screenwriter
Greg Stuhr has the right kind of nervy presence and caustic attitude for a
hardnosed antihero like Paczynski. Alicja Bachleda (so terrific in Ondine) smolders up the lens as Nikki
Meeker, the Tesla expert in distress. Matthew Broderick’s Borden Chase will be
nobody’s idea of a sinister heavy, but as Emily Chase, Camilla Belle is a hot
mess in the grand tradition of Martha Vickers in The Big Sleep. However, nobody can out-noir Robert Forster doing
his thing as Whitmore, even when Robert Vaughn and Joe Grifasi (FX the movie) pop up in cameos.

Cinematographer Frank Barrera gives it all a suitably murky, noir glow,
while David Shire (whose soundtrack for the original Taking of Pelham One Two Three remains a perennial collector
favorite) reinforces the mood with his insinuating score. Like The Big Sleep referenced above, The American Side is a fun film, even
when it doesn’t make perfect sense. Recommended for genre fans, it opens this Friday
(4/29) in New York, at the IFC Center.

SFIFF ‘16: Radio Dreams

Pars
Radio is sort of like a Farsi-language WKRP, but more existential. On most
days, the esteemed literary-émigré program-director Hamid Royani has carte
blanche to present the sort of elite broadcasts for the Bay Area
Iranian-American community that interest him. However, this is not an ordinary
day. Metallica will be coming to Pars to jam with the Afghan rock band Kabul
Dreams, whose cause they have championed. The eccentric station owner’s
business-minded daughter Maral refuses to let them squander this commercial
opportunity. This inevitably leads to conflict in Babak Jalali’s Radio Dreams (trailer here), which screens during the
2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Yes,
Metallica is coming, but their “people” were never very clear about when. That
generates even more stress and uncertainty for the Pars staff. While there does
seem like there is a Beckett-like “Waiting for Metallica” element to the film,
it should be admitted up-front as a not very spoilery spoiler that the good
sport Lars Ulrich does indeed show up in advance of the rest of the band and do
right by the musicians of the real life Kabul Dreams. As a result, Radio Dreams might be the most commercial
quietly observational Farsi dramedy since who knows when.

The real
conflict in the film is the veritable fight for the station’s soul and
financial health waged by Royani and Maral. He continues to program poetry,
short story readings, and naval gazing essays in the worst tradition of NPR
with perverse determination, while the latter would like to pay the bills. As
everyone waits for the two bands to arrive, the Pars broadcasts seesaw between
his low key classiness and the jarringly brash commercials paid for by her
brand new sponsors.

Until
the bands start to jam, the film is nearly as soft-spoken as one of Royani’s
poetry recitals. However, he is an extraordinarily compelling figure to watch
on screen. Played by Mohsen Namjoo (often referred to as “the Bob Dylan of Iran”),
Royani radiates sad dignity. He has no problem with Metallica or Kabul Dreams,
mind you, but interviewing the reigning Iranian American beauty queen clearly
rubs him the wrong way.

As Maral,
Boshra Dastournezhad goes toe-to-toe with Namjoo, never giving any ground. She
certainly has presence and quite a withering stare. Unfortunately, most of the
rest of the passive station personnel are largely overshadowed by the intensity
of these two polar opposites. However, Ulrich could earn quite a few
Farsi-speaking fans for Metallica with his energizing appearance.

Jalali’s approach
might almost be too reserved for his own good, but the fatalistic vibe he
nurtures is unusually distinctive. Indeed, it is an unflaggingly literate and
gently ironic film. Recommended for patrons of Iranian diasporic cinema and the
top one percent of Metallica fans, Radio
Dreams screens this Thursday (4/28) and Friday (4/29), as part of this year’s
SFIFF.

Tribeca ’16: Special Correspondents

Radio
reporter Frank Bonneville and his engineer Ian Finch could be called the Jayson
Blairs of radio, except they really intended to cover the uprising in Ecuador.
Unfortunately, a funny thing happened on the way to the airport. It was all
Finch’s fault, as it often is. In accordance with their journalistic ethics,
they will just fake it as best they can in Ricky Gervais’s Netflix original Special Correspondents (trailer here), which screens during this
year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

After
sleeping with the oblivious Bonneville, Finch’s preening wife Eleanor decides
to give him the heave-ho. Frankly, it is probably the best thing that could
happen to him, especially considering Claire Maddox the kind-hearted segment producer
seems to be carrying a torch for him. The Ecuador assignment should be a
convenient cooling-off period for Finch, but he rather inconveniently trashes
their tickets and passports instead of his wildly ill-conceived letter to
Eleanor.

With the
borders closing imminently, Bonneville ensconce themselves in the spare room
above their favorite coffee house and proceed to fake it so real, just like
Edward R. Murrow would have done. When their “scoops” threaten to escalate the
international incident, Bonneville and Finch are summoned to the embassy for
their own protection. Of course, that is not going to happen, so they fake
their abduction to cover for their absence. Then the stakes really start to
rise when Eleanor Finch exploits the [fake] crisis as a means of establishing herself
as a media celebrity.

Somehow
Gervais (directing himself) maintains a level of mild amusement—light chuckles—consistently
throughout Correspondents. There is
funny stuff in there, but it is nothing like seeing the rat episode of Fawlty Towers for the first time.

As
screenwriter, Gervais hits a nice tone, but he is not so well-informed when it
comes to Latin America. Frankly, it is highly unlikely leftist guerrillas would
revolt against the Correa regime. If a revolution broke out in the Cuban-Venezuelan-aligned
nation (where the independence of the press and judiciary are routinely
violated and thuggery is used to intimidate political rivals), it would be in
the best interests of both the American people and the Ecuadorans to support
the uprising, but our current administration would probably prefer to continue currying
favor with the Castro regime.

Regardless,
Gervais works overtime milking his likable sad sack shtick. However, it is Eric
Bana who really gives the film some bite as Bonneville, the cocky prima donna. Vera
Farmiga is ridiculously over-the-top as Eleanor Finch, but that is the whole
point. Kevin Pollak also gets in a handful of sly line-deliveries as Bonnevilla’s
less-than-impressed station manager.

Arguably, Correspondents is
the perfect film to lead an almost entirely streaming life. It is diverting in
the moment, but leaves nothing behind in the subconscious. More watchable than
memorable, Special Correspondents launches
on Netflix this Friday (4/29), following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca
Film Festival.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Tribeca ’16: Obit

Clearly,
this is an important documentary, because people were dying to be in it. That
joke was promised on Twitter, so there it is. In all seriousness, obituary
writing is a skill you have to admire, because you never know when the bell
will toll for someone important. True, publications will have pre-written
obituaries on file for people of a certain stature who have reached a certain
age, but who would have thought to do that for Prince? Even more challenging
and often more rewarding are the recently deceased who were not household names
but still made a lasting mark on the world. Vanessa Gould observes the New York Times obituary staff at work
and samples some of their pieces in Obit, which screened as part of
this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Loyal
readers (who are probably dying off fast) all want their loved ones
memorialized with a NYT obit, but
very few make the cut. However, occasionally a call from family members pans
out, like the late Jack Kinzler, who really did save Skylab. In a sense, these
obituaries rescue the accomplished departed from obscurity, serving as
time-capsule histories of their time and field of expertise.

Gould
and the staff writers get into process, but not to tedious extent. Having been
burned in the past, obituary writers have to get on-the-record confirmation for
each passing and whenever possible the cause of death. The latter can be a
little sticky at times, but readers will wonder if it is not there. When they
are lucky, there are photos and perhaps even an advance obit in the so-called “morgue,”
presided over by archivist Jeff Roth. Probably his greatest archival discovery
was the advance for 1920s daredevil pilot Elinor Smith, who lived to the ripe
old age of 98, even though editors doubted her luck would hold out during the
height of her fame.

Gould
and her subjects convincingly argue obituary writing is a life-affirming
practice, which is cool. However, it would have given the film greater scope if
she had incorporated obituary writers from different, perhaps more specialized
publications. Believe it or not, The New
York Times is not the only periodical publishing obits. Still, it is fascinating
to listen to the many thumbnails of the obituary department’s greatest hits,
like the tragically sweeping life of Anna Peters, a.k.a. Svetlana Alliluyeva
[Stalin].

You have to wonder if the sudden deaths of popular figures like Prince,
Chyna, and Papa Wemba are good or bad for a doc like Obit. Of course they can never schedule screenings around death,
because it is always with us. Somehow Gould maintains both a sensitive tone and
a breezy pace throughout the film. Recommended as a tip-of-the-hat to an under-sung
field of journalism, Obit premiered
at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival, with screenings to follow on 5/2, 5/3, 5/7,
and 5/8 at this year’s Hot Docs in Toronto.

SFIFF ’16: Very Big Shot

We
all realize there is no shortage of narcotics in Hollywood, but the Lebanese
film business is a different matter. Yet, the film Ziad is producing would not
exist without illicit drugs. Technically, it still doesn’t exist, strictly
speaking, but a lot of people will get worked up over it. It is all about those
cans of film that get waved through customs unopened in Mir-Jen Bou Chaaya’s Very Big Shot (trailer here), which screens during the
2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

At
Ziad’s pizzeria, the “special” comes with a bonus topping on the side: cocaine.
He is the oldest of three brothers and also the most ambitious and
temperamental. When Ziad accidently caps a rival in a drug-related scuffle, the
youngest brother Jad takes the fall, knowing he will get a shorter sentence as
a minor. When he is released, Ziad has a surprise for him: a major shipment of
designer amphetamines. He was supposed to deliver them to his contact in Syria,
who was then supposed to eliminate Ziad, but the pizza baker rather violently
side-stepped the trap. Naturally, he took their shipment for his troubles—and no,
this will not sit well with his former employers.

Regardless,
Ziad and Jad are determined to make a big score. They just need to get the
pills out of the country. Inspiration arrives from the unlikeliest source:
Charbel, a deadbeat customer who fancies himself an independent filmmaker. In
Charbel’s current documentary, Georges Nasser (the first Lebanese filmmaker
accepted at the Cannes Film Festival and a consultant on VBS) explains how an Italian movie crew once tried to smuggle drugs
out of Lebanon in film canisters. They just attracted suspicion because they
were never seen shooting any film. Ziad will not repeat that mistake.

Bou
Chaaya and co-writer-co-star Alain Saadeh start with a solid, potentially
madcap premise, but they bury it under awkward tonal shifts and what feel-like
local in-jokes that can’t possibly be expected to travel. Subplots, like middle
brother Joe’s affair with Charbel’s pretty actress-wife Alia wither on the
vine. It also seems like the Lebanese mafia is unusually patient when a
significant drug shipment goes astray.

Still,
there is no question Saadeh has real starpower and impressive range. As Ziad,
he turns on a dime from gritty action scenes to deadpan comedy. It would not be
surprising if he started popping up in French films, given VBS’s already considerable festival play. Alexandra Kahwagi is also
terrifically tart and droll as Alia. Wissam Fares and Tarek Yaacoub are both
fine as Jad and Joe, but the latter really gets lost in the shuffle.

VBS is inconsistent in almost all respects, but it has been a hit throughout
the region, so it seems like an early favorite for Lebanon to submit to the Academy
Awards. There is also something intriguing about its rough edges and erratic
demeanor. Mostly recommended for those who follow Middle Eastern cinema, Very Big Shot screens again this coming
Friday (4/29) and Sunday (5/1), as part of the 2016 San Francisco International
Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: A Hologram for the King

Any
country that prohibits the consumption of alcohol is a terrible place for a
mid-life crisis. Most inconveniently, Alan Clay finds himself in the Kingdom of
Saudi Arabia, just as his personal life and finances reach their nadir. He has
one last chance to make a career-saving sale in Tom Tykwer’s A Hologram for the King (trailer here), which is now playing in New
York after screening as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

How did the
desperate-looking Clay get assigned the KSA account? He once cracked a joke
that made one of the dozens of Saudi princes laugh. It is not much, but his
company is looking to play any angle. They need the King to buy their
holographic tele-conferencing software or face shareholder wrath.
Unfortunately, Clay does not encounter the same sense of urgency when he
finally arrives in Jeddah.

For the
severely jet-lagged Clay, just getting to King Abdullah Economic City (KEAC)
will be a challenge. Constantly over-sleeping the shuttle, Clay must repeatedly
book Yousef as his private driver and the film’s comic relief. Once on-site, he
quickly realizes his software pitch has been back-burnered. Nothing can happen
without the King, who is constantly traveling abroad.

Clay’s
team will also need better connectivity to make their pitch but they are being
unceremoniously quartered in a stifling hot tent. The only staffer who will
talk to him in the main building is Hanne, a Danish contractor who can at least
hook him up with some contraband booze. To make matters worse, the suspicious
growth on his back seems to get worse. However, his luck might finally change
when he is examined by Dr. Zahra Hakem, one of the few women doctors in the
KSA.

Seriously,
it is hard to believe Dr. Hakem would ever treat a male westerner in a country
where women are not allowed to drive (as the film duly depicts), but it allows
a rather appealing romance to develop between the doctor and her patient. In
fact, Tykwer’s adaptation of the Dave Eggers source novel readily acknowledges
the severe theocratic regulations and the frequent public executions as a fact
of Saudi life. However, it seems to reserve its outrage, since there are
apparently work-arounds available for western expats. That is all well and fine
for booze, but being LGBT in the KSA is still a dangerous proposition.

In fact,
we get a sense of this intolerance when Clay starts his unlikely courtship of
Dr. Hakem. Evidently, they can only steal a kiss while snorkeling along the sea
floor. In terms of economic and geo-political concerns, the film clearly argues
China is a far more sinister threat to the West, which is admittedly tough to
argue with.

Tom
Hanks does his Tom Hanks thing as Clay, but in this case his everyman is a bit
more depressed and self-indicting. The halting romantic chemistry he develops
with the charismatic Sarita Choudhury is quite engaging and quite convincingly
played from a rational emotional perspective. (Again, it is hard to believe
things could ever get so far in the opened-minded KSA, but why let reality stand
in the way of a nice movie subplot?) On the other hand, Sidse Babett Knudsen
(also seen in the first-rate Courted)
is criminally under-employed as Hanne.

Arguably, Hologram invests
greater symbolic significance in a cyst than any film since Richard E. Grant
went nuts in How to Get Ahead in
Advertising. Don’t worry, this one doesn’t talk. Strangely, Tykwer manages
to humanize our friends the Saudis to a remarkable extent, even though the film
will absolutely discourage viewers from visiting. Not essential by any means, A Hologram for the King is modestly recommended
for those looking for a rom-com with mature adults, which are few and far
between. It is now open in New York at the Lincoln Plaza, following its
screenings during the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Elvis & Nixon

Generations
of Americans grew up with the reassuring presences of Elvis Presley and Richard
Nixon. You can’t get much more iconic than blue suede shoes, the swiveling hips
not on The Ed Sullivan Show, Checkers
the Dog, and the Pumpkin Papers. It turns out the two men had more in common
than the general public generally assumed. Liza Johnson gives the famous late
December 1970 summit meeting a thinly fictionalized treatment in Elvis & Nixon (trailer here), which is now playing in New
York after screening as the centerpiece of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

In late
1970, Presley was already a regular fixture in Vegas, but it would be eighteen
months before he cut his milestone cover of “Always On My Mind.” The
Gospel-singing man from Memphis has had enough of the hippies, New Left
agitators, and Black Panthers he sees on television. After shooting out the TV
(because he’s Elvis), he decides to fly to DC in order to meet with Pres.
Nixon. The King has a half-baked notion of becoming a “Federal Agent At-Large,”
not that such a thing exists.

To
fulfill his mission, Presley slips out from under the Colonel’s thumb, calling
on his old friend and former Memphis Mafia member Jerry Schilling to coordinate
the logistics. Of course, even in 1970, nobody could just walk into the Oval
Office, but Elvis Presley could get closer than most. He finds a key ally in
Egil Krogh, the White House policy specialist on narcotics, who not so
realistically envisions the King serving as a powerful spokesman for the
administration’s anti-drug campaign.

Elvis & Nixon is a surprisingly gentle and
nostalgic film that truly forgives the foibles of its subjects. Johnson and the
trio of screenwriters, Joey Sagal, Hanala Sagal, and actor Cary Elwes, zero in
on the common ground shared by the two Horatio Alger figures. Frankly, it is
downright shocking (in a good way), how steadfastly the film resists taking pot
shots at the Nixon administration figures.

Although
not an obvious candidate, Michael Shannon turns out to be an inspired choice
for Presley. Granted, he hardly has that resonate baritone voice, but he can do
Presley’s aura and bearing without resorting to shtick. He powerfully conveys
both the pride and regrets of the man they still call “King.” As an added
bonus, he shares some quietly effective scenes with Alex Pettyfer’s Schilling. On
the other hand, it is harder for Kevin Spacey to avoid sliding into
impersonation terrain as our beloved and reviled 37th President. At
least his Nixonisms never feel vindictive or cheap.

Watching the eccentrically simpatico chemistry shared by Shannon and
Spacey will make viewers regret the famous 1970 meeting was a one-off. You can
almost see Presley and Nixon being the sort of friends they really needed,
because unlike Bebe Rebozo and the Memphis Mafia, each was completely separate from
the other’s world. Regardless, it is strangely entertaining to watch the two
legends eat M&Ms and drink Dr. Pepper together. Recommended rather
affectionately, Elvis & Nixon is now
playing in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and Bow Tie Chelsea, closely
following its centerpiece screenings at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Tribeca ’16: The Fixer

You
might think Afghanistan is worlds apart from this Humboldt County-ish
community, but they have their similarities, like violently erratic drug growers.
However, Osman does not know the lay of this darkly sinister hippy land. Yet, he
ought to understand the importance of local knowledge better than anyone in Ian
Olds’ The Fixer, which screens today as the
best actor award winner at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Osman
was a fixer, one of those unsung guides/translators/hand-holders who are
indispensable for foreign correspondents. Since hotshot journalist Gabe
uncharacteristically sung Osman’ virtues, his original hometown paper agreed to
serve as Osman’s immigration sponsor. However, they do not have a job waiting
for him, as Gabe had led him to suspect. Some of the town’s unsavory elements
are less than welcoming, but his host, Gabe’s sheriff’s deputy mother Gloria
could not be more welcoming. In fact, she might be too happy to have him
staying with her.

As Osman
acclimates himself to the area, he crosses paths with Lindsay, who definitely
qualifies as local color. To make up for a less than auspicious first meeting,
Lindsay takes Osman under his wing, offering him an unofficial tour of the
local drug scene. Unfortunately, Lindsay disappears soon thereafter, having run
afoul (again) of Russian “organic farmer” Dmitri Sokurov. Reasserting his
journalistic instincts, Osman resolves to save Lindsay or at least bring his
killers to justice.

The Fixer is a bit of a Jekyll-and-Hyde
movie, but it represents a quantum improvement from Olds’ last James Franco
project, the unwatchable sham, Francophrenia.
There is some wit in Fixer and some
intriguing noir, as well as erratic tonal shifts and some awkward telegraphing.

Iranian-American
actor Dominic Rains is indeed a reasonably defensible choice for the Tribeca
acting nod. He balances intelligence and naïveté quite adroitly and develops
crackling good screen chemistry with the remarkably diverse ensemble. He even
plays off producer James Franco quite well. Frankly, Franco is somewhat
effective as the stoner lowlife in his initial, out-of-focus, off-kilter scene,
but he clearly looks miscast (presumably by himself) in every subsequently well
lit scene.

In
contrast, Melissa Leo is uncomfortably real as Gloria, while Rachel Brosnahan brings
out surprising dimensions in Sandra, the hipster actress Osman might be getting
involved with. However, it is Thomas Jay Ryan (a.k.a. Henry Fool) who really spikes
the ball as the mysterious Sokurov.

For what it’s worth, The Fixer is probably the best Franco film
since True Story, which is a more
impressive distinction if measured in intervening movies rather than years
elapsed. It is not perfect, but it is worth checking out to watch actors like
Rains, Ryan, and Brosnahan do their thing. Recommended for fans of small town
noir, The Fixer screens today (4/24)
as an award-winner at the 20016 Tribeca Film Festival and also today during the
San Francisco International Film Festival.

SFIFF ’16: The White Knights

The
line between humanitarianism and human trafficking is hardly what you would
call “fine.” there is a big, fat demarcation there. Yet somehow the NGO Zoe’s
Ark still had trouble keeping on the right side. Their “enthusiastic” efforts
to place orphans with French families remains controversial in both Chad and
France. Their fictional analog, Move for People, will get some of benefit of
the doubt. Even so, the paving on road to Hell is still the same as it ever
was. Even if they had good intentions, they certainly make an appalling mess of
things in Joachim Lafosse’s The White
Knights (trailer
here), which
screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

When
Move for People’s Jacques Arnault arrives in-country, his top priorities are “acquiring”
orphans five-years-old or younger from the surrounding village chiefs and
securing air transportation out of the country. It almost seems like he
foresees a need to leave in a hurry. Nevertheless, he has approved the presence
of an embedded journalist to document their work. Of course, he neglected to
tell her the organization is facing an official investigation in France. That
little tidbit she learns from her editor after settling in at the NGO’s
compound.

The
irony (really, one of several) is Arnault’s scheme would not be so bad if the
chief’s more scrupulously followed their instructions. Unfortunately, we soon
suspect many parents have been convinced to give up their children so they can
receive medical treatment and an education, with the expectation they can
readily be visited.

There is
plenty of blame to go around in this ripped-from-the-headlines morality play,
starting with the NGO, but also including the chiefs and villagers, as well as
the journalist who largely succumbs to Arnault’s gruff charm. He is played by
Vincent Lindon, so it is hard to judge her too harshly. What is really shocking
is how true-to-life the narrative is. Frankly, White Knights could be used as an infomercial for Guidestar and
other non-profit watchdogs.

Lindon does
his thing, blustering and bullying those who start to doubt, while tearing up
when talking to prospective adoptive parents on the phone. The duality of his persona
well suits Lafosse’s equivocal tone. Even when the bottom completely falls out
of Move for People’s scheme, it is still hard to judge their intentions with certainty.

White Knights is the sort of ensemble piece
that is best served by actors blending in rather than standing out. In that
respect, it is remarkable to see Louise Bourgoin (so glamorous in The Girl from Monaco) disappear into the
role of Laura Turine, Arnault’s ardent worker bee deputy. However, Reda Kateb
brings some edge as their fixer, Xavier Lipert.

Even with the prominent names attached to White Knights, its jaundiced view of NGO do-goodery will not likely
endear it critics and art-house programmers. It is just too subtle and
challenging. Indeed, there is absolutely nothing simplistic about it. Recommended
for Francophiles and internationalist skeptics, White Knights screens tomorrow (4/25), Wednesday (4/27), and Friday
(4/29), as part of this year’s SFIFF.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.